


Love Lorn Baby

by kageillusionz, orphan_account



Series: Max and Dave [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Felching, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV Alternating, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/pseuds/kageillusionz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little aftercare for Erik after his obedient submission to Charles. (Sweet and tender with kisses and quiet I love you's.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Lorn Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **Shibs** for indulging me late one night. HO HO HO. Any lingering mistakes are our own.
> 
> This is a clean up of an RP, so be warned for **alternating POVs**!

"I want you to felch everything out, Erik. I want to see your chin shiny and wet, covered in spit and your own cum. You're so dirty, Erik. You’re perfect."

Charles’ voice is a low rumble of a timber. Erik moans because he's unable to form coherent speech, not with Charles sitting on his face. Obediently, he lapped it up without complaint, the taste of himself bitter like brine on his tongue. When he pulls back, his mouth and chin are wet and sticky, and his eyes are glazed over from overstimulation and pleasure. Staring at the pink pucker before him, all Erik can think about is how much he wants to dive back in and lick again. So he does, thrusting his face forward until the scent of Charles’ musk fills his nostrils and his tongue is pushed deep into Charles.

“Mmm... yes.” Charles moans in encouragement, fingers digging into Erik’s hair, nails scratching into his scalp, urging him on. “I love seeing you like that knowing I’ve made you this way. You’re so good for me, Erik.”

Charles’ used hole throbs in a good way, sensitive and filled as it was to the brim with Erik’s seed. Tomorrow when he is at work giving lectures or standing in the lab, the twinge there will remind him of how they spent today: the slide of blue sheets underneath his knees, the smooth metal of the headboard warm in his palms, and the sweaty, warm perfection that is Erik moving underneath him, inside of him.

After a long moment, Charles stops Erik from licking, unable to take the onslaught of sensation. He kneels up and shuffles backwards awkwardly, far enough that he can observe the devastation all over Erik's face including the high flush on Erik's cheeks. Fucked out is a very good look for Erik and one that Charles hopes to see more often.

"Beautiful," Charles murmurs. He leans forward until his nose is nestled into the hollow of Erik's throat, tongue imperiously sweeping a long wet path up. Up over the curve of the Adam's apple and the faintly stubbled chin, purring at the change in taste as his tongue sweeps over Erik's chin and then insinuates itself into Erik's mouth, sharing the taste of them.

Much to Erik’s embarrassment, he clings to Charles' shoulders like he's desperate for contact, parts his lips so that Charles can thrust his tongue in. Not forceful, but enough that Erik moans, let's Charles take charge. It's filthy. He feels filthy as well, dirty and sticky and used. He isn’t ashamed to say however, that he likes it. To be used by Charles is a luxury and a gift, something Erik would gratefully accept any day.

When Charles pulls away, allowing Erik to breathe, all Erik can do is smile. "Anything else I can do for you, Charles?" He already wants to climb back into Charles' space so that they're touching. He wants to always touch Charles. Always.

"No," Charles whispers with a sigh, a matching smile growing on his face. "You're perfect, Erik."

He plants one lingering kiss to Erik's lips and then reaches over to fiddle with the handcuffs that they used. It’s plastic, a material Erik detests but was very willing to let Charles cuff him with.

Once the handcuffs spring open, Charles quietly asks in a flurry of words, "How are you feeling, Erik? Are you okay? Sore anywhere? What do you need? Too much?" A warm towel is definitely in the cards before anything has the chance to turn tacky and gross. Probably also plenty of water, a shower, and some cuddling. Charles is a champion cuddler.

With the cuffs off, Erik rubs his wrists and sighs softly. "I'm good. Not hurt anywhere. Not that I know of at least." He doesn't even feel remotely sore. Tired, maybe. A little exhausted from being kept on edge for so long. He worries more for Charles' thighs; he'd rode Erik for so long he’d lost count of the minutes after the first ten.

"If I could hold you later on though, that'd be nice." He presses his thumb against the inside of his wrist, hissing at the ring of dark purple on his skin. “Probably shouldn’t have tugged so much.” He gives a quiet laugh. He really does hate restraints of any sort.

"Here, let me do that for you." Charles gently shoos away Erik's hands and takes over rubbing, placing kisses over the pulse points of Erik's wrists. He makes a note to use the nicer, better padded leather cuffs for next time.

"That is always an option. A shower on the other hand... do you want me to clean you up with a towel, or would you prefer...?"

"Towel," Erik says simply, watching as Charles presses kisses over his slight bruised skin. Charles is always so tender with him after it’s ridiculous the attentiveness of his actions. "I'm not sure I can stay standing for too long." A lazy lull has already began to set in and his eyelids flutter as they grew heavy.

"Alright," Charles replies. "You just stay here and relax. I'll have you cleaned in a jiffy."

He is loathe to leave Erik's side, but makes himself get up and walk into the bathroom. His legs thankfully don't give way and he silently congratulates them for a job well done. He gives his ass -- moist and tacky and a little gross -- a perfunctory wipe before wringing out the towel and returning to the bedroom.

Erik's eyelids are closed when he enters and Charles wonders if he's drowsing a little, sitting himself on the edge of the bed for a closer look. It wouldn't be a surprise really, given how much fucking they got up to today, he thinks as he combs back some of the hair that had fallen over Erik’s forehead. The tousled post-sex hair look is really becoming on Erik. Perhaps one day Erik would be comfortable enough to let Charles experiment with other toys and positions. Perhaps even, Erik would be susceptible to the idea of Charles fucking him instead of insisting to be the one doing the fucking. Something to do with control and needing to reign it tight, to have it at his fingertips. It’s a slight pity, but nothing Charles can’t wait and work around.

“Erik, love. Are you still awake?”

Erik couldn't have been asleep for more than a few minutes, but no doubt, he had dozed off. He blinks sleepily when the first swipe of something wet comes into contact with his neck, then his face, the side of his body, and then further down. Erik lets out a quiet breath, turning onto his back so that Charles can wipe over his stomach and his legs. "Sorry," he says, because he isn’t helping much but instead lying there while Charles cleaned him up. "Tired."

Charles hushes him, easing their dubbed ‘sex towel’ out from underneath Erik's sleep heavy body for washing and coaxes Erik to relinquish the duvet trapped by his gorgeously shaped buttocks. After having one too many lube related incidents, the duvet is happier with this arrangement.

"No need to be sorry," Charles says as he tucks the blankets around Erik. "I'm just going to throw these into the hamper and get a glass of water. I want you to drink some too so you don't dehydrate. OK?"

It's warm around Erik. Like a nest, he thinks. Warm and soft and absolutely lovely; which isn't a word Erik uses often unless it's to describe Charles. He leans into Charles' hand, presses up against it and lifts his head so that he can kiss the inside of Charles’ palm. "Okay. You'll be back soon?" he asks, voice dazed and a little hoarse from all the moaning he'd done earlier on.

"Want you back here soon..." And then, "please..." And nuzzles once more into Charles' hand.

"Of course." Unable to resist putting another kiss on Erik's cheek, Charles quickly dashes off to dispose of the towels into the dirty clothes hamper and grabs a glass, filling it with cold water from the water dispenser attached to the fridge. He downs two glasses in quick succession and then brings one back to Erik, careful not to spill a drop.

"Erik?" He chuckles quietly at the small noise of confusion that Erik makes. Although it could also be a purr from him carding his fingers through Erik's damp hair. It’s hard to say. "Hey, sorry to keep waking you. Water?"

"Yes." Erik sits up and takes the glass in his hand. The cool water provides relief to his throat. He only realizes how thirsty he is when he's downing it in mere seconds. Some of it trickle from the side of his mouth and he wipes it away with his thumb.

"Thanks." He reaches over, sets the glass down, then curls his arms around Charles and drags him down into bed where it’s so much more cushy and comfortable. "You're lovely. Taking care of me even though your thighs are absolutely aching." He pulls Charles under the duvet so that they're warm together and takes him in his arms, nuzzling much like a giant cat.

Charles gladly snuggles in close, making sure that the duvet won't let in any cold air. "Don’t fret it. It's my responsibility to make sure you're ok. I'd feel shitty otherwise." Their legs slot in together and Charles happily leeches warmth from Erik who throws off heat like a furnace. It must be all that enviable metabolism.

"My thighs are fine, I promise,” he assures when Erik reaches over to massage at them gently, letting out a contented sigh when Erik squeezes them. “You know,” Charles drawls, “you really should stop wearing that sweater... or that suit... or that other suit so often..." It's rather embarrassing how quickly Charles becomes so sexually frustrated once he sees Erik in beautiful clothes. Even more so when he's out of said clothes. It's a bit of a double-edged sword. Erik is far too attractive for his libido's good and it’s like he were still a teenage boy with puberty’s claws deep in him.

"Sweater of sex, as you call it." It was a plain simple black sweater. Erik couldn't see the appeal of it asides from its comfort factor. But if Charles likes it and if Erik can make him a little less coherent when he wears it, he thinks he can probably use it in his favour.

"I should not wear clothes at all then," Erik murmurs, burying his nose in Charles' hair. Mint shampoo and heady sweat. It's intoxicating.

"Yes!" Charles is entirely on board with this idea. Completely and utterly on board. His productivity mourns for its imminent death, and is possibly plotting out the death of the sweater of sex.

They share sleepy chuckles. The bed dips a little when Charles wriggles and turns to face Erik. He tucks himself right up against Erik, curling a possessive arm around his impossible waist and presses his face against Erik’s neck. Taking a deep breath, Charles exhales warmly against Erik's clavicle with a satisfied sigh. "You smell thoroughly shagged and perfectly ready for sleep. Love you, Erik."

"Love you too, Charles." Erik murmurs, smiling wistfully and pressing closer to Charles who is making soft breathing noises. He falls asleep to the sound of Charles’ slow even breaths and the feel of him safe and warm in his arms.


End file.
